I just spent over an hour at Anthropologie. I didn’t try anything on, I didn’t sniff or sample candles or lotions. I just wanted to BE in there. The books, as always, were a huge draw. I lost myself in the pages of “The Kinfolk Table” and “Remodelista A Manual for the Considered Home”. Despite my (sometimes) annoying protestations that one need not buy any more actual new books, I would be thrilled if one or both of those found its way under my tree this year. But beyond the books and in spite of the overwhelming scents I wanted to stay in the retail holiday wonderland that Anthropologie created for me, for all of us. Garlands made of green bottle caps, cardboard leaves transformed with spray paint and glitter, I found myself wanting to take 100 pictures for holiday inspiration in my own home! As my allotted hour was coming to a close I stood in the line with the star I’d picked out for our tree (and a copy of “The Kinfolk Table”), I hummed along with the Christmas music piping through the speakers – I was the embodiment of the modern holiday spirit (consuming for others, smiling and singing). I continued to bubble with the holiday spirit all the way back home, I visualized turning a few of those genius Anthropologie decorations into holiday craft sessions with my kids. My dream state continued as I walked in my door and placed my pretty Anthropologie bag on the table. Then my eye caught the dirty breakfast dishes in the kitchen, damn, we’re not in Anthro anymore Toto.
P.S. The post was not sponsored by Anthropologie.